


Intervention

by RisalSoran



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Claustrophobia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e22 The Wire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 16:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30142032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisalSoran/pseuds/RisalSoran
Summary: When Garak snaps at her for no apparent reason, Keiko realizes something is wrong. She does not know what, but she is determined to find out, and to help.
Relationships: Elim Garak & Keiko O'Brien, Minor Julian Bashir/Elim Garak - Relationship
Comments: 23
Kudos: 44
Collections: Don't Press That Button First Line Challenge





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if DS9 has an observatory or an arboretum, but it should have both!
> 
> ss'ithUq'itzik Fire of the Stars; the Amleth Nebula  
> Itzik. Star (from Vyc & Tinsnip's English-  
> Kardasi Dictionary)

“Whatever you do, don't press that button,” a disembodied voice snarled.

Keiko froze, her hand hovering over the control to the Observatory door. “All right.” She took a step away from the panel and raised both hands in a gesture of appeasement. “I apologize. I did not realize the room was occupied.”

The voice did not reply.

Moving slowly, her hands still raised, Keiko walked to the door. She stopped at the threshold. _This is a public facility,_ she reminded herself. _You have every right to be here._

Against her better judgment, Keiko slowly turned around, stepped away from the open door, and looked for the source of the hostile voice.

At first, she saw no one. But then, peering into the shadows at the far side of the room, she caught a glimpse of a figure sitting in the shadows. His dark hair, tunic, and trousers blended in to the darkness of the room, but faint starlight reflected off the pale gray of his face and hands.

Keiko realized that the hostile voice had spoken in Federation Standard with a Kardasi accent, but the only person on the station she knew of who spoke with a Kardasi accent was Mr. Garak, the tailor. The harsh, angry tone and vaguely threatening words simply did not sound at all like him, but there was no one else it could be.

“Mr. Garak?”

“Go away.”

 _That really does not sound at all like Mr. Garak._ “Computer, lights to forty – ”

“No.”

Keiko frowned. “Pardon?”

“It is quite bright enough in here.”

“Not for a Human. I can barely see a thing! Computer, lights to fifteen percent.”

He exhaled sharply, obviously annoyed, but he didn't countermand the order.

The lights increased gradually. It was still dim, to Keiko's eyes, but bright enough to see. The dark figure _was_ Mr. Garak, but he looked … different. His impeccably tailored tunic and trousers were wrinkled as if he'd slept in them for several nights, and his hair was disheveled. He sat almost completely still, leaning against the back of the seat, ignoring her completely now, and staring morosely out the transparent aluminum window.

Keiko knew he had been ill. She'd heard from several people that he collapsed in Quark's Bar a week ago or so. She'd also heard a surprising number of highly improbable stories, and a few that may have been true. He drank much too much kanar before collapsing; that was certainly possible. It was also possible that he invited Dr. Bashir to his quarters for some “enjoyable company”. On the other hand, Keiko couldn't picture Mr. Garak insulting _every_ Bajoran, and half of the Ferengi, in the bar. It was even less likely that he had threatened in any plausible way to return Bajor to Cardassian control, or challenged Morn to a duel, whatever Morn may have said, or threw a bottle of kanar at Quark.

Certainly, his shop had been closed for at least the last four days. She'd been checking so she could ask him about the status of the alterations she had commissioned for some of Molly's outgrown clothing. Now, obviously, wasn't the time to ask about that, but perhaps there was something she could do to help.

Keiko approached slowly.

The tailor didn't seem to notice.

“Mr. Garak?”

His head jerked in her direction. He flinched slightly, and Keiko noticed a moment's delay before his eyes focused and his startled expression shifted into the furious glare he'd given her earlier. “Go away, and leave me alone,” he snapped.

 _That_ was certainly not how one acquaintance should address another, not even while recuperating. “I _beg_ your pardon?” Keiko made sure her voice was quiet, but tempered with steel.

“You heard me.”

“I did. I thought I'd give you a chance to try again to speak with a more civil tone,” Keiko said. She almost winced at how much she sounded as if she were speaking to an impertinent child, but she was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way. Molly had her moments, to be sure, but even at her worst, she never showed such vicious fury. Nor did Miles, not even when intoxicated. He could certainly be irritable, and he did have a temper, but he never spoke like _that_. Keiko simply didn't know how to respond.

“I do believe you took my meaning, regardless of my … _tone_.” The hostility was still present, but it seemed different somehow. More of a veneer than something genuine. Keiko thought he sounded tired.

“Yes. I understood your meaning, Mr. Garak, but I will not leave until I am ready to do so. The Observatory is a _public_ facility. It was a public facility under the previous administration as well, I do believe.”

He seemed to deflate. “Quite so,” he murmured. He leaned against the wall suddenly, as if relying on it for support.

Keiko stepped closer.

Mr. Garak flinched.

Keiko stopped. _That_ was not a reaction she had expected. She considered her next move. Leaving was obviously not an option. She was no medical doctor; she was certainly no counselor. But it did not take a professional to ascertain that something was wrong. She had no idea what, or how she could help, but she would find out. Obviously, she should call for help, but that wasn't an option at the moment. She wasn't wearing a communicator, and she didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone at the moment.

Of course, if someone else were to enter the Observatory, that person could contact Doctor Bashir, or perhaps Counselor Telnorri.

Keiko glanced at the open door as if the mere thought would have brought someone, but of course it didn't. It was up to her, then, at least for now. First, though, it appeared she would have to show him she meant no harm.

She took a seat on one of the benches that was about half-way across the room; not quite on the opposite side of the room, but not too close either. She looked out upon the stars, trying to come up with a plan.

Nothing came to her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Garak turn back to the window. She couldn't read his expression, or see what he was looking at, but at least he had stopped glaring at her. She wondered what he was looking at. Cardassia, probably, if it was currently visible, or perhaps Bajor. She wished _she_ were looking at Bajor, from the ground.

“It's been quite a while since I've been back home,” she said aloud. She made sure to keep her voice soft and slow, as if she were speaking to an intoxicated Miles or a tired, upset Molly. “I do hope to see it again some day.”

Mr. Garak did not reply aloud, but Keiko thought she saw the slightest dip of his head in acknowledgment. She was certain of it, in fact.

She smiled to herself. Whatever was bothering him, his usual impeccable manners were starting to show themselves.

“I've been to the capital, and several lowland forests, but I would love to see the mountains as well.” Keiko continued, keeping her voice gentle, as if she were telling a story to Molly or to the students in her class. “The Janitza Mountains, perhaps, or the Dakhur Hills. And the Fire Caves! I suppose you'd think that's a silly destination for a botanist. After all, there aren't many plants within a cave. But I would dearly love to see the caves of Bajor! I've explored several on Earth. Some are remarkably beautiful. My personal favorite is the cave system at Carlsbad Caverns National Park. It comprises more than a hundred caves, with underground lakes and ponds, and its own ecosystem, with food webs based on algae and fungi, near the entrances, of course, where there's enough light and nutrients for them to grow. The natural entrances, that is. The elevator is much faster, but it simply does not provide enough light for any sort of plant life. And of course there are the speleothems. Stalagmites and stalactites, of course, but also ...”

Keiko stopped talking and looked at Mr. Garak more closely. He was still sitting silently, looking out the window, but she had the distinct impression he wasn't really seeing the view outside. His posture was rigid and his hands were tightly clenched into fists, and his breathing seemed oddly deliberate, as if it required conscious effort.

“Mr. Garak? Are you all right?”

“I am _perfectly_ fine!”

 _Okaay._ “Glad to hear it,” she replied awkwardly. She quickly returned her attention to the window and looked out, silently this time. She didn't know what she'd done to upset him, but sitting quietly had seemed to help before. She decided to try that for a while. She shifted into a comfortable cross-legged position and turned her attention to the astronomical phenomena outside. She remained silent for some time, watching the stars and surreptitiously keeping an eye on the tailor.

He sat, looking silently out the window. After a while, something in his rigid posture changed. He didn't move, exactly. Nor did he truly relax. Yet he seemed, somehow, less ready to strike, and he seemed to be breathing more comfortably.

Keiko returned her attention to the view outside. She had not intended to spend so long in the Observatory, but she had to admit it was rather nice to just sit and relax, watching the stars and the distant glowing pinks and reds and purples of the Amleth Nebula, just coming into view as the station turned. “It's beautiful, isn't it? The Nebula?” Keiko asked, careful to keep her voice soft and her gaze on the nebula.

Mr. Garak inclined his head slightly.

Encouraged, Keiko continued. “It reminds me a bit of the nebulae I used to watch from Earth – the Orion Nebula and the Crab Nebula. This one looks different, but it's just as beautiful. Do you know it?” she asked.

He jerked his head in silent negation. “Not in Standard,” he clarified after a moment of silence.

She didn't point out that she had a functional Universal Translator. “What is it called in Kardasi?” she asked instead.

“It is called _ss'ithUq'itzik.”_ His voice was soft; the hostility gone.

Keiko attempted to imitate the word. Her success was limited.

For just a moment, she thought she saw a ghost of a smile on his face. He repeated the word, slowly, and somewhat louder than before.

Keiko tried again.

This time, Mr. Garak inclined his head in approval.

“Does it have a meaning? Or is it simply a name?” she asked.

He tilted his head. “It has a meaning, and it is a name. Essentially it means 'the fire of the stars', or perhaps 'star-fire'. It is also the name of that particular nebula.”

Keiko inclined her head in the Cardassian gesture of gratitude. “It is beautiful,” she said again. “It reminds me, in a way, of the flower gardens popular in Europe and America, on Earth, the ones with large swaths of flowers blooming at once. It's quite different than the gardens I grew up with.”

She paused and glanced at Mr. Garak. He was still looking out the window, but something about the way his head was slightly tilted and turned just enough he would be able to see her with his peripheral vision led her to suspect he was listening. Perhaps not enthusiastically, but she certainly couldn't expect that. Only Molly, and a few of her youngest students, listened enthusiastically when she spoke of plants, and that was only because she made the descriptions of the gardens, woods, and meadows an integral part of the fairy tales she told.

“My grandfather's garden was just as beautiful,” Keiko continued. “It wasn't a flower-garden, though. It was a _nihon teien –_ a Japanese garden. It was based around a small creek with a waterfall leading into a pond, with raked gravel beaches, a variety of stones of different shapes and sizes, neatly pruned rhododendron shrubs, dwarf pines, stately maples, the beautiful, if ephemeral, blossoms of cherry trees, every spring, and a lantern to light the way at night. When I was very young, I helped my grandfather work in his garden. I have not seen such a garden in … you know, I don't even remember how long. It must have been several years before Molly was born.”

Glancing again at Mr. Garak, Keiko was astonished to see a tear escape, glistening in the starlight, trickling down the curve of his eye-ridge.

He quickly rubbed at his face, as if he were merely scratching at an itchy scale. “Will you just leave me alone?” His tone was sharp and hostile, but she noticed the underlying tremor.

Keiko wondered if the sadness he was trying so desperately to hide was, at least in part, because he, too, missed the gardens of his homeworld. “Did you have a garden on Cardassia?”

“Why would _I_ have a garden?”

His tone was back to the vicious chill he'd used when she first entered the Observatory, Keiko noticed. She sighed. He'd told her to leave him alone. She should have honored that request, at least for the moment.

“I'm a _tailor!_ ” Mr. Garak went on. “A plain, simple tailor! Is that so _difficult_ to remember? There is absolutely _no_ reason I would have a garden, on Cardassia or anywhere else!”

 _Methinks the tailor doth protest too much,_ Keiko thought. She turned from the window to look directly at him. She did not rise from the bench, and she raised her hands in the appeasing gesture she'd used before. “Can one be only one thing on Cardassia?” she asked. Not waiting for a response, she continued. “I myself am a botanist, a horticulturist, a wife, and a mother. I am also a reader, of horticultural treatises, gardening books, and literature, and I am a connoisseur of both music and traditional dishes from a variety of different cultures.”

He was watching her now, his head tilted in an unmistakably quizzical expression. Keiko raised an eyebrow and waited for him to ask whatever he was wondering.

“Horticulturist? I am … unfamiliar with the term,” he admitted.

Keiko almost chuckled at the expression of distaste he momentarily allowed himself to show, but quickly hid her amusement. Apparently Mr. Garak was not fond of acknowledging ignorance of even relatively obscure terms in a language other than his native tongue. “Essentially, it's a gardener,” she explained. “Specifically, it's a gardener who incorporates science into their work, applying their knowledge of the specific cultivars and species they'll be growing, and the conditions in which those specific plants grow, so as to optimize their success.”

Mr. Garak dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I am … familiar with the concept.”

His voice was soft, and Keiko thought she detected something else. He sounded almost … wistful. Had he been a gardener before? She was quite tempted to ask, but, remembering his prior reaction, refrained.

Instead, she changed the subject. “Indeed. Mr. Garak, it has come to my attention that you are much more than a plain, simple tailor,” she said, grinning at him. She allowed a moment to enjoy the unmistakable flash of panic that crossed his face before he regained his still somewhat tenuous control. “You are a connoisseur of chocolate, Mr. Garak,” she finished. Whatever he had thought she was referring to, it certainly wasn't something so innocuous; he visibly relaxed. “You have what is sometimes called, on Earth, a 'sweet tooth'. Don't try to deny it. I've seen you at the confectioner's shop.”

“Such an utterly ridiculous term, Professor O'Brien. A tooth is neither in possession of, nor capable of recognizing, such a flavor.” He blinked, and his mask slipped into uncertainty. “Unless … are _Human_ teeth sensory organs?”

“Not at all. It's just an expression. A rather silly one, I suppose,” Keiko acknowledged. “We sense flavor using our tongues.”

Mr. Garak inclined his head slightly. “As do we.” He fell silent again, and returned his attention to the stars.

Keiko hesitated. She didn't want to upset him again, but she could no longer bring herself to _not_ ask. It wasn't as if she had a wide variety of colleagues to speak to about her interests, and his reaction to her descriptions of the gardens had piqued her interest. “Mr. Garak? Please do not feel compelled to respond if my question is offensive, but I am curious. You seemed … _moved_ … when I spoke of gardens. There aren't many people here on Deep Space Nine who share my interest in plants. There's Quark, of course, but his interest is strictly commercial. Might there be another person on this station, besides myself, with more than a passing interest in horticultural topics?”

Mr. Garak glanced at her. He was silent so long she was sure he had decided not to answer, when he began to speak. His voice was soft and hesitant, and his gaze firmly fixed on the stars and nebula outside. “I … have worked as a gardener before. A … _horticulturist.”_ He said the word slowly and carefully, with a pronounced Kardasi accent.

Keiko smiled. “That's wonderful! I have missed talking about plants with people who are genuinely interested.” _Keiko, be cautious,_ she reminded herself. _If you press him too much now, he may never want to speak with you again. Keep it simple._ “Do you … might I ask if you have a favorite plant? Mine is the cherry tree, the edible cultivars as well as the ornamental. They are all beautiful, especially in the Spring, and many of the cultivars produce delicious fruit. What is yours?” _So much for not pressing,_ Keiko chided herself.

But Garak didn't seem to object. “The Edosian orchid,” he said simply.

“Oh! That is a remarkably beautiful flower!” Keiko decided not to mention the other notable characteristic of the highly toxic plant.

Garak tilted his head and smiled directly at her. “You are familiar with Edosian orchids, Professor O'Brien?” he asked.

 _Now this is the Mr. Garak I remember,_ Keiko thought. She smiled back. “I have not had the pleasure of encountering any in person, but I have seen pictures. Not long after we came to Deep Space Nine, Miles managed to recover some of the station's Cardassian files, including a database of the plant life currently found on Cardassia Prime. It included several pictures of the Edosian orchid. They are beautiful flowers.”

Mr. Garak inclined his head. “Quite so. Yet an illustration cannot do them justice.”

Keiko smiled. “I completely agree, Mr. Garak.”

Garak glanced at her and shook his head. “It's just Garak.”

Keiko inclined her head in a slight bow. “Thank you, Garak. And I'm Keiko.”

He did not reply except for a sidelong glance and a barely visible flash of a smile before he returned his attention to the view outside.

Keiko frowned. He'd seemed interested in their discussion, just a moment ago. Trying not to be obvious, she looked at him more closely. He didn't seem upset. He wasn't having trouble breathing. His expression was calm; a neutral mask. But he was trembling. Not enough she'd noticed before, but now that she _had_ noticed, it was obvious.

 _He's probably cold, and he doesn't want me to notice,_ she guessed. “Excuse me a moment, Garak. I came here to enjoy a cup of tea while looking out on the stars – well, and to allow Miles and Molly some time together. I think Miles was planning on building some sort of model and letting Molly play with the clay. I believe I will grab myself a cup now. May I get you something to drink?”

Silence.

Keiko turned to look at him.

He was staring at her, open-mouthed, with his eye-ridges fully raised.

“Garak? What's wrong?”

He blinked. Quickly, he schooled his expression into a calm, polite smile. “Nothing at all.”

That was clearly not true. He was genuinely shocked when she offered to bring him a drink. Was it really so surprising for someone to offer him such a simple kindness? Thinking over the population of the station – mostly Bajoran and Federation Human – she suspected it probably was.

“I'm going to replicate myself a cup of tea,” Keiko said, keeping her expression neutral. She suspected he would be deeply offended by any show of pity. “May I get you something?”

Garak tilted his head slightly and looked up at her sideways. “Please. Rokassa juice, if you don't … no. My apologies. Tea would be fine.”

Keiko suspected his change of mind had less to do with his actual preference and more to do with a desire to not offend. Miles's comments about the odor of rokassa juice when she and Molly first tried it had been … colorful. It was Garak's choice, though. Except … wasn't rokassa known to have mild sedative properties? Surely that would do him more good than tea, at the moment. But there was no chance _that_ suggestion would go over well.

“On second thought, I do believe I'll have a rokassa juice instead,” Keiko announced, keeping her head turned just enough she could see his reaction. She wasn't at all surprised to see his mask slip once again into astonishment before he covered his surprise.

“I … I was under the impression Humans dislike the odor,” Garak said.

“Some Humans do. Miles _hates_ it!” Keiko replied, laughing. “I rather like it. Molly does, too. It is strong, but sweet. It reminds me a bit of a Terran fruit called the durian. I sampled a few varieties when I spent a semester on a botanical survey in Thailand, on Earth. It, too, has a strong odor many Humans find offensive, and a delightful taste many don't take the chance to discover.”

Garak nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

Keiko crossed the room to the replicator. “Computer. One rokassa juice,” she ordered.

The computer complied, and she inhaled the rich aroma and smiled. Then, too quietly for Garak to hear from the other side of the room, she told the main computer to raise the room temperature by ten degrees. Turning, she set her juice on the small table beside the replicator. “Garak?” she queried.

He hesitated. “The same.”

Keiko hid her smile.

“But would you be so kind as to request that it be hot?”

“Of course.” Keiko placed his order, and carried both cups across the room to the bench where he had already seated himself.

“Thank you, Professor,” Garak said politely, taking his cup with both hands and holding it tightly.

“You're welcome.” Keiko took a seat, careful not to crowd him. She sipped her juice and nodded appreciatively. It didn't taste like any fruit she recognized, but it was pleasantly sweet, with just a hint of tartness. “It's good,” she declared.

He took a sip of his as well. “Indeed.”

Keiko took another sip.

She noticed with amusement that Garak was making no effort to actually drink his beverage, beyond the first sip. He was just holding the cup and inhaling the steam. His eyes were half closed, and he seemed to be enjoying the warmth.

A flash of blue light from a passing runabout caught Keiko's attention, and she turned to watch it fly past, probably heading for Bajor. Keiko sighed. _My responsibilities are here, for now,_ she reminded herself. When Molly was a little older, she would make the time to visit Bajor, and perhaps Earth. A child should have the opportunity to spend time on a planet. Holosuite programs were a wonderful substitute, but they were not the real thing.

Garak was looking at her, his eye-ridges raised inquisitively.

“I was just thinking of when I might take Molly to visit a garden,” Keiko explained. “She's never been to one, except in the holosuites. I haven't been to one in years, except to visit. It's been a very long time since I've been able to do any work as a botanist or as a horticulturist, other than caring for a few houseplants and identifying the occasional sample. There simply isn't much call for someone of my background on this station.”

“Quite so. Yet you seem to be getting on as Teacher.” Garak pronounced the word as if it were a title of respect.

Keiko smiled. “Yes, I am. I enjoy teaching. I truly do. And I have wonderful students! But I miss working with plants. Cataloging the species and cultivars, analyzing their condition, and working to optimize their growing conditions – I miss that kind of work.”

Garak allowed himself a sigh. “As do I.” He returned his attention to the window and took a sip of his juice. He frowned at it and downed the rest quickly.

“Shortly after I came on the station, Miles suggested I establish an arboretum of some sort on the station. A place to grow a garden indoors,” she clarified, noticing Garak's slightly quizzical expression.

“Ah! I was not aware of the existence of such a facility.”

“I haven't established one. I thought at the time Miles suggested it just to keep me busy. He wanted me to have a hobby. I've begun the process of planning one – researching potential locations and designs, necessary supplies, costs, sources, and the like, but I've not had the time to get it established. The school takes precedence."

Garak gave a short nod. “A school is indeed important, but cannot an … _arboretum_ … be important as well? Cannot it be used to grow food-plants? Would its utility not depend on the kinds and quantities of plants grown within?”

Keiko looked at him appraisingly. He seemed to be feeling a little better now. He was still shivering, but his breathing seemed more natural, and he was watching her with alert curiosity; no longer staring, silent and miserable, out the window. The warm beverage and the slowly increasing temperature of the room had apparently done him some good, and the idea of the arboretum had clearly piqued his interest.

“I suppose you're right,” she said as if she had been giving his question some thought. “Usually the plants in an arboretum are ornamental, but on Earth there is a well-established tradition of landscaping with edible plants. It's not as common indoors, even on starships and space stations, but I see no reason edible plants can't be used there as well.”

Garak inclined his head. “On Cardassia many plants are grown under cover of some sort, as ornamentation within homes and as a means of protection of the plants themselves from extreme weather conditions. Many are edible. Some are medicinal. A few have … other uses.”

Keiko smiled. “Such as the Edosian orchid?”

“Indeed.”

“If I were to obtain access to a location to install such a facility, would you be willing to help out?”

“Me?” Garak looked astonished, but pleased.

“Of course! A successful arboretum requires much too much work for one person, and I simply don't have the necessary time. Besides, it's always best to have someone to bounce ideas off, when planning such a large project, and I'm sure you've got ideas.”

“Indeed.” He sat, quietly, looking out at the stars and the Nebula. “I would be willing,” he said at last.

“Excellent! Thank you, Garak. I'm not sure exactly when I'll have a chance to speak with Commander Sisko about it, but I'll try to find the time later this week.”

“Good.” His response was terse. He winced and rubbed at his temple.

“It may be some time before I will have … time to be of service with this new endeavor. I have commissions I must ...” Garak's voice trailed off and a horrified expression crossed his face.

“Garak? Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine. But I … owe you an apology, Professor, and your daughter as well.”

“No, Garak. You do not.”

Garak exhaled sharply. “Yes. I _do._ My apologies, Professor. I should have already completed the commission with which you entrusted me … by three days ago, I believe.”

“Allowances can and should be made for illness, Garak. It is not a problem at all. Molly is not lacking in suitable clothing.”

Garak shook his head and waved aside her attempt at reassurance.

“Truly. It's not a problem, Garak. I know you'll finish it when you can.”

“I have completed the alterations to two of the young lady's garments: the blue and purple shirt and leggings and the Bajoran militia scarlet dress.”

“You did? When? Your shop has been closed!”

“Ah. I returned to work this morning. The shop remained closed.”

Keiko pictured the tailor reacting to a customer entering his shop in the same way as he initially reacted to her entering the Observatory. “I understand,” she said simply.

“I do apologize, Professor,” Garak spoke up with sidelong glance. “For … I do apologize.”

Keiko imitated his gesture. “Please. No apology is necessary.”

“On the contrary. My behavior was … reprehensible.”

Keiko realized he was no longer referring to the commissioned alterations. “It wasn't ideal; I won't deny that. But you're not feeling well. That sometimes makes it … easier to say or do things one might later regret.”

“Indeed.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

His mask slipped. Keiko couldn't read the flash of emotion that crossed his face before he quickly covered it with his customer service smile. “No. Thank you.”

“All right.” Keiko sighed. She really needed to be getting home, but she still wasn't sure Garak should be alone. He seemed completely alert and coherent now, but it was obvious he wasn't well. If he were Molly, she would have long since told him to go to bed and get some sleep.

“I assure you, Professor, I will have your daughter's clothing finished as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Garak. I appreciate it.” Keiko stood. “It's getting late, and I promised Miles and Molly I'd be home in time for dinner,” she announced. “You're welcome to join us, if you'd like.”

“No!” He exhaled sharply. “My apologies, but no. I am hardly fit company for your daughter at the moment, and the Chief would not welcome a “Cardie” into his home.”

Keiko frowned, but she couldn't honestly deny that. Miles was a good man, but he had his faults – and his outspoken opinion about Cardassians was definitely one of them. He had been fine with Rugal, after a while, but Garak had a point. He would probably say something they would all regret, if Garak came over without prior notice. “All right. What about Doctor Bashir? His shift should be over in an hour or so. Perhaps you could invite him to dinner.”

“I would never presume. I eat _lunch_ with the Doctor. Not dinner,” he corrected pedantically.

Something about his expression told Keiko that whether or not he would be willing to invite the doctor to dinner, an invitation _from_ the doctor would not be at all unwelcome. If nothing else, if Dr. Bashir stopped by to invite Garak to dinner, he would be able to check in on him. _I do believe I will make a quick stop by the infirmary on my way home,_ Keiko decided.

“Will you contact me tomorrow about Molly's clothes, perhaps in the afternoon after school lets out? I can pick up the ones you've finished, and you can let me know when the others will be done.” Keiko suggested.

Garak inclined his head. “Certainly, Professor.”

“Thank you. Good night, Garak.”

“Good night.”

Keiko exited the Observatory and turned to shut the door behind her.

Garak was sitting, looking out the Observatory window, illuminated by starlight and the distant light of the Amleth Nebula. He still looked pale and exhausted, but he no longer seemed ready to strike or flee at a moment's notice. And, though she could have been mistaken, Keiko thought she saw a ghost of a smile flick across his face.


End file.
